Page 13 of Betrayed by His Highland Wife

She had only met the man once. But already, she saw the problem.

She liked him.

A lot.

And that was definitely not part of the plan.

Fluttering her fan furiously, Nora leaned into the mirror and peeked at her reflection. She did not recognize the lady gazing at her so serenely. She just was not someone she had ever met before. Spending the day with him, she had felt herself turn completely. Somehow, everything had changed.

And he had changed it.

Her first glimpse of William had not been what she expected.

He is weak, he is feckless, he is a fop. He is pure hackitt, with dog's breath.

Everything, in short, that she had heard about William was suddenly blown out of the water. It was all lies. And in its place, new feelings had emerged.

William had charmed her. She had not expected his commanding good looks, red curly hair he kept tied back, the scruff of beard on his strong jawline, nor his clear blue eyes. He was attentive, witty, and fun. He had entertained her and dazzled her to boot.

Now she was so exhausted with her thoughts and had no energy for anything else. Worse still, he had reached her with his eyes. And she couldn't remember the last time anyone did that.

Glancing about, Nora shivered.

"Ye're cold, mistress?" the young servant called. "I can stoke the fire."

Distracted, Nora looked up. The Duncan chamber was grand and vast, and in the cold dark of a late spring morning, also chilly. However, Nora shook her head.

"'Tis fine, dinnae fash," she said, turning briskly to the dress. Acres of deep green velvet sashayed at her feet. She felt strange. Inside, a tingling in her stomach told her she needed to eat, but the deep knots placed there had stopped her.

Since arriving at the Duncan clan, she had eaten nothing. Grabbing the shawl, she placed it over her shoulders, then, five seconds later, discounted it again. She looked better without it.

The serving lass peered at her unsurely.

"It's nae a bather," she said, her dull brown eyes pressed upward. She appeared to be checking Nora out. Every time she thought she was not looking, her eyes darted toward her, then when she turned, she dropped them.

"It's nae a fash," Nora said, without looking.

"Ye'll make Laird William a blushing bride," ventured the girl, her eyes immediately staring down.

Nora turned her light eyes to her, amused. "Will I?" she said, gathering the enormous houppelande up and turning. It fell to the floor with a rustling sound that Nora found pleasing. But the sudden beating in her heart was less so. A surge of bile rose, burning her chest and throat. The very reminder of her mission here choked her.

"What if he dinnae like me?" Nora asked.

Eyeing herself in the looking glass, Nora gave a little grin, but it was forced and abrasive. In truth, she had not known where that comment had come from. It had slid from her, unseen. Perhaps unguarded.

For a minute, the girl hesitated, unsure. She did not know what to say.

"Ye may run along noo, lassie," she told the wench, who stood frozen to the spot, clutching her white and blue arisaid uncomfortably. It was like she had been turned to stone for watching.

Her eyes arched upward, watching the lassie through the glass. The little look made it clear Nora knew the servant was spying. Embarrassed, the girl scuttled off, leaving Nora face-to-face with herself in the glass.

The girl in the reflection had a secret. It was etched into her face. Looking at herself, Nora wondered if all could see it. Her hair piled on her head, she could hardly believe the look of herself. Hairline plucked and hair cast back into the rolled coif she was wearing, Nora gawped.

She really did look different. That, and the pastes Sorcha had painted onto her cheeks and lips, and she was suddenly illuminated into a woman.

A lady.

"Och, mistress, he cannae fail to find ye beauteous!"